


Wishful Thinking

by brokendrums



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-26
Updated: 2012-06-26
Packaged: 2017-11-17 14:50:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/552756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brokendrums/pseuds/brokendrums
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry lives in a world where every year on your birthday you get one wish that comes true. </p>
            </blockquote>





	Wishful Thinking

On his fifth birthday, Harry wishes for chocolate. He's just caught on to the fact that his wishes come true but there's still a shred of doubt in the back of his mind, so he wishes for something easy, just to try it out. Last year he wished for sherbet, something that was banned from his house because it sent him and his sister hyper. He had went to bed, tired from playing all day with his friends from nursery when much to his delight he had found four sticks of powder blue sugar under his pillow. He split them with Gemma the next morning before breakfast and his mum went mad when she found them bouncing on the sofa in the living room.

  
He blows out the candles, his sister scowling beside him because none of the attention is on her today, and he waits excitedly until bedtime. 

  
"What's gotten into you?" His mother laughs pulling his jammie top over his head and ruffling his hair. He's sleepy but there's a thrum of excitement stirring in his gut at the prospect of what's waiting for him under his covers. "You're never happy to go to bed." 

  
Harry shrugs, teeth shining as he grins up at his mum and eyelids flutter, fighting them to stay open. She smiles fondly at him again, pressing a kiss to his forehead and flipping off the big light. The night light glows from the other side of the room but even in the dim he can see the shiny purple wrapper peeking out from under his pillow.

  
"Yes." He hisses to himself, an excited glee sparkling inside him. 

  
He manages to wolf down a whole bar before he falls asleep and when his mum finds the wrappers in the morning, she scolds him about not brushing his teeth and tells him to wish for something better next year.

  
*

  
He experiments at age ten. Wishing three different wishes on three different cakes. He waits on bated breath to see what happens, staying silent in case he jinxes it and it doesn't come true. He worries all day Sunday that he's annoyed whoever grants these wishes, that a genie is going to pop out of his teapot at breakfast and tell him off. He’s never had a wish not come true before and the worry nearly eats him alive. He doesn’t want to tell his mum in case she tells him off for being greedy and definitely doesn’t want to speak to Gemma about it because she’ll just tease him.

  
On Monday morning he has just began to accept that he isn't getting any wishes because he had been naughty, like getting coal on Christmas morning from Santa, when Molly Morrison, the prettiest girl in his class came up and kissed him right on the lips. She pulled back, staring at him wide eyed tucking a stray piece of her strawberry blonde hair shyly behind her ear. 

  
"Happy birthday Harry." She tells him, teeth worrying her bottom lip before she escapes off to the other side of the classroom to her giggling girl friends. 

  
Harry stood still, schoolbag hanging limply from his arm when the boys who played football at break time gave him a few impressed looks. Harry blushes then, slipping into his seat trying to hide his grin. It was his second wish, and it came true, and Harry couldn't help but feel elated that he isn't at the top of some Birthday Wish Black List. 

  
The kiss though was nothing special - nothing like what he expected. Just a dry press of lips with the hint of the strawberry glittery lipstick all the girls in his class wore. There was no fireworks or whatever he was supposed to feel. It sort of made him feel giggly but he doesn't really want to do it again - and he was no idea why Gemma sneaks off behind the bus shelter to kiss Bobby Malone every day after school. 

  
After that, Molly pines after him, following him home some days even though it takes longer for her to get to her house that way and standing at the very edge of the football field to watch him get covered in mud every lunchtime. She makes him a daisy chain and Harry is confused to what to do with it so he drapes it over the back of his chair until it withers and falls apart and Molly positively glows. His mum calls it cute but Harry just ignores it, not seeing what the fuss is about. 

  
He doesn't even notice that when April rolls round and Molly is waiting for him just inside the threshold of their classroom on her birthday, lips puckered and a fresh coat of glossy lip balm. He doesn't notice her disappointment or watery eyes as she slides back into her seat and he certainly doesn't notice the lack of a five foot stalker anymore. 

  
*

  
He slowly discovers over the years that not all wishes come true. 

  
When he turns thirteen he wishes for his sister's gerbil to die, but three weeks later and much to his annoyance, Squeakers is still squeaking in his cage and Gemma is still blissfully unaware that she's ruining his life on a daily basis. 

  
He complains to him mum, who just laughs and pats his head. 

  
"Sorry you wasted your wish darling." She coos in a way that is much too sappy for a teenager to handle. He dodges away from her hand scowling which only makes her laugh more. 

  
"I should've just wished for a new bike." He moans, letting his head drop onto the kitchen table and into his maths homework.

  
"That'll teach you for being mean to your sister." His mother warns, hand reaching out to pet at him. This time he doesn't shrink away, revelling in her comfort for a few moments before she disappears off to make dinner. 

  
Later that year, when Gemma wishes on her birthday that their parents don't divorce, Harry learns that wishes are subjective and voluntary and just won't come true if the other person refuses, no matter how hard you wish. It breaks his heart to see his sister so distressed so he waits until everyone has went to bed before he sneaks into his sisters room and crawls into her bed. 

  
"Go away." She sulks, turning her head further into her pillow and ignoring the way Harry wraps an arm around her and snuggles into her back. They haven't shared a bed in years, growing too old and annoyed at each other the only way siblings do.

  
"I'll trade you mine." Harry whispers into the darkness. "You can have my wish next year." Her bedroom backs onto the road and he can see the moon through the chink in her curtains so he focuses on that and hopes he doesn't cry. That would be so uncool. Gemma stays silent, sniffing quietly into her pillow before she rolls over and hugs him fiercely to her chest. 

  
*

  
For his sixteenth he decides to be selfish. He'd given up his fourteenth to Gemma and his fifteenth was a bit of a disaster in which he had nearly pleaded for his brain to stop fancying his English teacher but chickened out half way through and asked for beer instead. There was a crate of beer sitting on his bed that night and he went to sleep with a sinking heart as he realised he would still think Mr. Reynolds was hot on Monday. His mum confiscated the beer the next day anyway and Harry promised himself not to mess around with his wishes ever again. 

  
He gets a job and slaves his way through school even though he would rather be doing just about anything else. He fights with his sister and kisses Molly again behind the music block at school. She still wears strawberry lipbalm but her hands stray in a way no ten year olds would and Harry isn't so oblivious to her actions anymore. It still doesn't feel right, soft curves under his palms and long hair brushing his shoulders but it's a warm mouth and he's the talk of the school so he keeps licking past strawberry lips and let's his mind wander to places he isn't brave enough to confront yet. 

  
So when he turns sixteen, instead of wishing for Molly to stop being a tease and let him loose his virginity - like every other boy in his class wishes - he wishes to get out of Holmes Chapel and make a name for himself. 

  
He doesn't really know what he had expected. Maybe to wake up and be instantly famous. On the front page of the paper or the proud owner of a train ticket out of the village. But that isn't the case, his mum wakes him up like she usually does and he grudgingly pulls on his school uniform, berating himself for not just wishing that Molly would blow him in the boys P.E. showers.

  
She does do that, a few months later, after he's auditioned and knows he's going to bootcamp and Harry has never been so glad for sticking to his wish in the first place.

  
*

  
Sometimes he wishes it was his birthday everyday. He knows it's childish but sometimes he just wants an extra hour in bed or reassurance that they’ll get through every Sunday on X Factor or for Niall to just gather up the courage and press him against some wall and kiss him. 

  
He isn't really sure when he started wishing for the last statement to be true but amongst the rehearsing and the partying and the craziness it begins to be all he can think about. He doesn't know how he's dealing with it yet, not thinking about the ins and outs of it as much as he can, trying to push it away but then he would catch glimpses of Niall when they get changed, jutting hip bones and skinny waist. Flat chest and lean muscle and definitely _boy_ and it all comes rushing back. He wonders how far his long fingers can span his back, what he feels like pressed up against him, what his lips would feel like against his own. His eyes trail down his body when he thinks nobody is looking and let's Niall tuck in beside him whenever they watch movies, brushing his fingers over his waist in a way that he hopes isn't too obvious. 

  
But it is. Even for their overly touchy band he's not being very subtle. 

  
"So." Louis draws the word out and noses along his ear so he can whisper into it. He normally has Louis attached to him for most of the day but today the tone of his voice unsettles something in his stomach so he tries, to no avail, to shrug him off. Louis clings tighter with a giggle and a overly dramatic pout. 

  
"That's some heavy petting. Even for you Harry. I‘d be jealous if I was so inclined." Louis murmurs against him and Harry can already feel the hot flush making it's way onto his cheeks. He doesn't really want to have this conversation but Louis isn't letting it go. "You got a crush on Niall?" The bluntness of his question makes his stomach squirm and he finally breaks out of Louis' grip with a gasp of air. He must look a little distressed because Louis' face falls and he reaches out to grab at his wrist desperately. 

  
"Hey hey hey." His tone is serious now and just that simple change makes Harry turn to look at him. "That's alright you know." Louis tells him, meeting his gaze and tugging him closer. "It's ok to like him." 

  
Harry feels as if a weight he didn't really know was there in the first place has been lifted off his chest. The worry and fear that had been twisting through the back of his mind since he was fourteen and realised he didn't really see why all the boys wanted to kiss all the girls, dulls further until it's manageable niggle buried under everything else. Louis gives him a bright grin and pulls him into a hug that‘s supposed to make it all better but he can‘t help and wish that it was someone else. 

  
*

  
There's a bad side to all these wishes of course. You're lulled into a false sense of security, you have a one wish a year and you believe with all your heart that it's going to come true. But more often than not, when it comes to important stuff, you can wish and wish and wish until you're blue in the face and some wishes just won't come true. 

  
They go to a children's hospice on a dreary January morning. It's full of sick children who grin and laugh and chat to them, tubes coming out of their noses and hooked up to their tummies. The little boy in the end bed is holding a balloon, hopeful smile on his face as he blows out six flickering candles. His parents look distraught, knowing like every other adult in the room what he's wishing for and how no one can make it come true. Louis looks like he's going to lose it and Niall just steps closer to Harry, sticking to his side for the rest of the morning. 

  
"Sometimes I hate it." Niall whispers to him as they settle into the back seat of the car. Louis is sandwiched between the other two in front, frown on his face and fighting the urge to cry. Niall looks up at him with glittering eyes, his expression so confused and upset that it tugs at his heart. "How come we got so lucky?" he asks, snuggling under Harry's arm. 

  
"I dunno." Harry responds quietly, welcoming the comforting weight of Niall by his side. He doesn’t and he hates that some things just can’t be wished better.

  
*   

  
For his seventeenth, looking around at the three boys he now calls his best friends and the one he hopes will be more, he wishes for the band to work out, for them to be successful and happy and friends forever. He assumes they all do that year because One Direction explodes across the world and it's better than they had ever dreamed. 

  
It's more than what he wished for if Harry's totally honest with himself. He can hardly walk down the street and he feels guilty for his family being constantly harassed. Everything he does is scrutinised and he feels even more pressure than before. 

  
He turns his flirting down a notch, especially when he realises their fan base over analyse everything and anything, every moment of his life is caught on some dodgy iPhone camera as proof. He settles into a comfortable state of watching from afar and letting his brain run away with itself when he thinks of Niall. He allows himself the odd cuddle, wrapping himself around him and just breathing him in when he has the chance. Louis watches him with an odd look of pity and amusement when he does this but Harry finds the will to ignore him. He thinks that Niall starts to notice and they start to creep closer towards each during their tour but nothing ever comes from it. Harry tells himself that he's happy like that, Niall’s just a friend that he sometimes stares longingly at and has the urge to throw him onto a bed and have his way with him.

  
The year flies by, a whirl of number one singles and foreign countries and screaming girls. It's coming up to his eighteenth and Harry is anxious at the thought of it. 

  
"Is eighteen your last wish?" Harry finally asks and rolls over on the bed to peer over at Niall. Niall shuffles about in his own bed until he can meet Harry's gaze. His eyes are drooping and Harry wants to run the pads of his thumbs over his cheeks. 

  
"I dunno." Niall shrugs. "I haven't turned nineteen yet." 

  
Harry sighs and for once in his life wishes he was rooming with Louis or Zayn that night. He knows they would laugh at his question though and Harry has always been oddly uncomfortable talking about wishes, irrationally thinking that maybe it's all a dream or something he's made up. His mum doesn't talk about them either, saying that they're private and Harry respects that. Gemma doesn't really say much, shrugging and cryptically tells him that the things she wishes for would have came true anyway. He's read things online though, there's pages and pages of it, all explaining that it's different for everyone and no one really knows if you can wish as an adult, just like they can't explain why you can wish as a child. 

  
"Does it hurt?" He can't help but ask. Hollywood has made enough movies to let the notion bleed into his consciousness. “Feel different?” His voice sounds small even to his own ears so he squeezes his eyes shut and he bites his lip, waiting for Niall's response. Instead, the mattress dips and he feels cool air before warm skin is pressed up against his side. He snaps his eyes open, turning his head to meet Niall's eyes from where they're sleepily looking across at him. He shuffles over to give Niall more room but he only follows after him, leg hooking over his in a way that makes Harry's stomach flip. 

  
"Are you worried?" Niall asks him, his nose a gentle pressure against his shoulder, breath washing over his arm and chest. Harry turns back to the ceiling and tries to find the right words to explain what he's feeling. 

  
"What if this is my last wish?" Harry asks into the darkness. Niall snakes his arm across his belly and squeezes him softly. "Shouldn't I make it worth it?" 

  
"What if every wish had been your last wish?" Niall asks. Harry stays silent, his tongue feels heavy in his mouth and he sort of hopes that tomorrow never comes so he doesn't have to make the decision. 

  
"My mum always said that you can wish all your life." Niall tells him, thumb smoothing across his ribs in a way that's oddly comforting. "And those who can't just aren't wishing right. It’s like everything else. You have to work for it.” 

  
Harry stays quiet for a long time and when he turns to Niall to ask him what he would do he's met with his face, slack with sleep and soft looking. He watches him for a moment, lips pressing to his forehead in a chaste kiss before he allows himself to fall asleep too, snuggled against him and finally feeling warm and content. 

  
In the morning Louis produces a cake, it's got pink frosting and his face on it, candles planted into his dimpled cheeks. The boys all laugh and Harry joins in, forcing it because he should be happy on his birthday. He's decided over breakfast that he's going to wish for the band again. It's the most important thing in his life at the minute and he doesn't want that to end so Zayn lights the candles with his lighter and Harry takes a deep breath. 

  
Niall slips his hand into Harry's fingers under the table and his breath catches in his throat. His mind empties out and all he can think of is Niall, not that that's surprising, he's on his mind 80% of the time anyway. His fingers are warm and reassuring against his palm and squeeze at him tightly. Harry blows out the candles and stands in a daze, Niall's fingers anchoring him as Louis cuts a slice out of his hair and he can't remember what he wished for at all. 

  
 *

  
It's Harry that bites the bullet and kisses Niall. 

  
They've grown closer and closer until he doesn't know why they haven't already. The rest of them just roll their eyes when they see them flirting and he knows that Niall sees it too because he blushes and glances away as if Harry's too bright to look at. They sometimes lean close together, air going still around them as they breathe into each others mouths and he's sure it's going to happen but it never does, someone walking in on them or pulling them away from each other. 

  
He presses Niall up against the door of their dressing room. It's an ordinary Wednesday, they had a few radio interviews in the morning talking about their new single and then they're playing a show that night. He can hear the screams and stamping of feet of everyone in the arena and Liam and Zayn's conversation about whether they prefer cheesecake or pavlova but it all dims to background noise.

  
He steps forward and Niall looks up at him, smile growing on his face when their eyes catch. He's fiddling with something on his phone but he sets it on the bench, turning his whole attention to Harry. Harry let's his eyes rake over his face, taking inventory of his freckles and how his cheeks tinge pink under his scrutiny. He let's them trail down, over his nose to his lips watching how they curl at the edges and bow in the middle. They look pink and full and Niall flicks his tongue out to lick at his bottom one, making it look more pouty and inviting. 

  
"Are we doing this now?" Niall murmurs quietly and Harry feels his laugh low in his chest. His stomach twists at the thought and manages to gather an ounce of courage from somewhere in his gut. 

  
"Yeah." Harry raises his eyes to check that Niall looks ok with it. "I think we're doing this now." 

  
Niall grins and just goes with it, hand coming up to wrap around his neck, palm pressed tight against him. Harry cradles his jaw with his fingers splayed across his cheek and spanning to reach his ear. It's the gentle press of lips against his, soft and warm and wet. He kisses him again, harder this time, pulling him close so their hips slot together and he get his free hand on his hip, curling under his t-shirt, stroking across bone and his waistband. He sucks on his bottom lip and let's his tongue lick into his mouth. Niall makes a little noise at the back of his throat, pulling him close with a hand fisted in his shirt. He takes a step back, pulling Harry with him so his back is against the wall and Harry can press him into it, tilting his chin back and deepening the kiss further.

  
"Finally!" Louis squeals from his place on the sofa. Liam and Zayn cheer too but Harry hardly notices, focusing on the trace of Niall's tongue and the shivers running down his spine. 

  
*

  
"So, do wishes come true after eighteen?" Niall whispers to him late at night. Harry flushes at the memory of this conversation a year ago. Niall just grins at him and pulls him closer, leg pushing between his knees so Harry can't roll over without taking Niall with him. 

  
"You tell me." Harry smirks which makes Niall giggle and press a kiss under his jaw. 

  
They're lying in his childhood bed, they have a break before their next tour so he wanted just a quiet birthday at home to spend with his family and friends. Harry let's his hand sweep across Niall's brow and push into his hair, scratching soft at his scalp and cuddling closer to him. 

  
"No seriously." Niall murmurs between pressing a smattering of kisses over his cheeks and down his throat. He doesn't press his question more, just goes back to kissing him softly and waits for Harry to answer him. 

  
"I dunno." Harry answers honestly. "I didn't wish for anything." 

  
Niall looks up sharply, eyebrow furrowing in confusion but Harry just smiles at him, pulling him closer and pressing a soft kiss to his lips. 

  
"How come you didn't wish for anything?" Niall asks quietly, arching into him and letting Harry hold his head close to him, thumb smoothing over his bottom lip. 

  
"I have everything I want." The words slip out of his mouth and into Niall's because they're so close. "I couldn't have wished for anything more." 

  
He can hear Niall's breath hitch and the swallow in his throat after. His eyes are wide and sincere and it takes a moment for Harry to get over the intimacy of the situation. Niall edges forward until it feels like every part of him is pressed against Harry. He reaches out, a hand settling over his heart and the other thumbs over Harry's jaw. 

  
"I got everything I ever wished for too." He murmurs against his lips and then presses forward so Harry can feel his grin through the kiss. 

  
  



End file.
